Storms
by Carolain.Black
Summary: The Winter Soldier had a new mission: find his partner. Free from Hydra but still a prisoner in his own mind, he needed to find her before he could try to find himself. Then they could try to make sense of their broken memories and find the lives that had been stolen from them. But the world is changing and two super soldiers ex-assassins might be just what the Avengers need.
1. Prologue

PROLOGUE

* * *

The Soldier had a new mission. No. Not The Soldier, he wasn't that anymore. He didn't really know who he was, but it didn't matter, the mission came first.

An old notebook was clenched tightly in his metal hand, he tried to relax his hold on it, but the arm didn't respond as well as it did before the helicarrier. In his other hand he held a picture, old and frayed around the edges, but his most important possession. A girl with big round eyes stared at him from the picture, full lips stretched in a smile, her hair in big soft curls against her shoulders. If he concentrated hard he could almost feel those curls slipping between his real fingers, remember their softness and their sweet smell. She was sitting in the snow, laying back against a rock, with a semi-automatic rifle lying beside her. He didn't remember how he had gotten that picture, but he knew it had always been his. On the back there was a number, coordinates, and two letters: S. R. Maybe, when he found her, he would take her there. Maybe there they could live in peace.

A small noise brought him back to the present. He pulled his cap lower, so it hid more of his face, and looked down from his perch on the fire escape. _Must have been a rat_, he thought. He opened the notebook and secured the picture inside. He had no time to lose, so he looked at his list for one last time before leaving. His messy handwriting filled the page: his first task was finding Bucky Barnes, that was what the men on the bridge had called him, so it must be important, perhaps finding Bucky could help him find her; his second task was finding a Hydra safe house where he could look for information, and destroy whoever was there, then he could finally go looking for her.

_I have to find Bucky. Bucky Barnes. Who the hell is Bucky?_ His mind was in shambles, but he knew that in order to find Bucky, first he needed to discover what was his relationship with his last mission. Rogers, his handlers had called him. He felt like he had met him before, but he couldn't be sure. He couldn't be sure of anything. He'd had flashbacks in which the face of that man was prominent, but he didn't look the same, how could he know for sure that it was the same man?

He jumped from the stairs and landed silently on the alley, it was time to start looking for information on Rogers. That would take him to Bucky. It had to.

* * *

So he was Bucky. James Buchanan Barnes. A Howling Commando. Captain America's friend. Or at least that was what the exhibit said. They said he was a hero. But he didn't know Bucky, didn't recognize himself in those pictures. The story felt familiar, even seeing Steve before the serum was familiar, but his mind couldn't reconcile the idea of Barnes and the Soldier being the same person. He thought that having more information would be of help, but the only thing it was doing was giving him a headache.

He had decided to leave the exhibit when he saw her. For a second he believed she was there, right in front of him, but it was just a picture. Why was she here?

"Sorry sir, we are about to close for the day, you need to leave".

The woman, a museum worker, had startled him so much he almost got the gun from his jacket. _It's just a civilian, relax_. He turned around and left as quickly as he could without calling attention to himself.

It hadn't been what he expected, at all, but the exhibit had been useful. He had info on Rogers, on himself. Only know he couldn't get that picture out of his head. She had looked different, younger, happier.

His mind was racing, his heart almost beating out of his chest. God, his brain was killing him. The not knowing was too much. He was too lost, if he wasn't able to relax himself, his training would take over. Perhaps that would be better. The Soldier would find her, he was more effective than Bucky or whatever he was now.

No. He had to get home. Then he would adjust the plan. If he wasn't on top of his game he would make mistakes, and making mistakes might be deadly. He wouldn't allow that. He had to find her.

His apartment, if one could call it that, was a dingy, dark thing on the outskirts of DC. Nobody would look for him here. The building had been abandoned mid-construction, so it wasn't the most comfortable, but he could defend himself there, that was the important part. Some wooden boards under the bed were loose, under them, he kept the basics: money, fake IDs, everything Hydra had had of him… and now a pamphlet from the exhibit with a picture of Steve Rogers in the cover. Pulling everything carefully inside again, he paused to inspect the only part of his file he'd had the guts to read. It said that they wiped his mind after every mission.

_That's why my brain is fried, literally_. His chuckle echoed in the almost empty room. It seemed he had started to remember something during his last mission, something about Steve, but Pierce had seen to it, making them wipe his memories again. However, there were things he didn't forget, even if they were hazy, some things never left his mind. The Morrígan was one of those things. That was what they called his partner. He now knew that the name didn't belong to her, it was something from Irish mythology, some kind of war goddess. He thought it was fitting, she was good at killing.

He shook his head, trying to expel her from his mind, if only for a few minutes. He had found Bucky, now he was going to find Hydra and then he was going to find her.

It was time to start hunting.

* * *

**A/N:** Hi! This is my first time posting here so I'm not sure if I did it right, it was a bit confusing. This story is a work in progress, but I will try to update as often as I can. English isn't my first language so if something sounds weird, please tell me! I hope you enjoy!

**Disclaimer**: Everything you recognize belongs to Marvel, I only own the OFC and her storylines.


	2. Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

* * *

Steve Rogers hated being inactive. Doing nothing was simply not in his nature. The last eight months had been hard on his mind, too many trails that lead to nothing. Bucky was a fucking ghost, more than he had been when he thought he was dead. But he was still his friend, something in him remembered their friendship, he wouldn't have gotten him out of the water if he didn't. That had to count for something.

Another powerful blow and the punching bag broke, spilling sand all over his feet and breaking his focus. Swearing, he bent down to stretch.

"Stark's got bags that wouldn't break in the tower, you know."

He turned around to look at Natasha, hands resting on his hip. The spy was wearing her hair short again, the red curls reminding him of when they first met before New York. They'd come a long way since then. She was studying him, looking him up and down. With one look she could see inside his mind. He hated it, but she couldn't help it, just as he couldn't avoid sweeping the room every few minutes.

"Those aren't as much fun." The truth was that he had been avoiding Stark as much as he was able, which wasn't a lot, considering they lived in the same place when the millionaire was in New York. "Anything new?"

"Boston. Another Hydra base" the eighth he'd raided in as many months "it was completely empty when I arrived: no bodies, no electronics… nothing useful except for this," she gave him a folder, the first page was a picture, some kind of metal box, empty, surrounded by medical machines "it looks like it was used to keep someone inside."

His hands trembled. Was that where they kept Bucky when they froze him? Trying to regain his composure was in vain, there was no sense in hiding from Nat when she could read him like an open book.

Perceptive as always, she saw the question in his eyes. "It might be where they kept him, but not this time."

The thought of Bucky trapped in there was more than he could stand, but if it wasn't Buck in there, that meant Hydra could be keeping more people frozen. The only consolation to Steve, small as it was, was that it wouldn't be anyone else he knew, no more people from his past frozen and suffering.

"There is a chance that there was another person in there. Not every Hydra file has been decoded, we're probably years away from that, "even with Stark technology, the data dump after they'd taken SHIELD and Hydra down was big and complex enough to require a lot of time "but we might find something… I've been thinking about my time in the Red Room."

Steve looked up from the picture, staring at the woman with surprise written all over his face. She never talked about her past, her life before SHIELD. Of course, he knew she'd been trained in the Red Room to become an assassin, but he hadn't wanted to pry, didn't want to make her uncomfortable.

"I know I trained under Barnes, not for long, but I remember him… he was brutal," her voice wasn't above a whisper, "but effective. The thing is, I think I remember someone else. A woman." Telling Steve about her time in the Red Room, even if it wasn't in detail, was taking every ounce of willpower in her body, but he deserved the truth. "I'm not really sure, but I reckon he might be looking for her."

A pained groan left Steve, he couldn't believe their luck. If the Winter Soldier had a partner they were in deep trouble. She could be even more dangerous than him. He'd kind of gotten through the Soldier's mind, what could they do against another super soldier? The fight with Bucky had almost killed him, it would take nothing short of the Hulk to go against two of them.

"I might be wrong Steve," he doubted that "but we should be on our guard." The suspicion was well founded if Natasha didn't keep it to herself.

She turned around to walk out of the gym, as silent as she had come in.

"Romanoff" she didn't look back, but he knew she was still listening "thank you."

_I will find you Buck, whatever it takes, I will find you_.

* * *

It had taken him eight months. Eight months of constant vigilance. Keeping up the search had been the only thing that helped him center his mind. He'd been living in shelters, abandoned buildings, on the streets… it didn't matter, the Soldier could get used to anything. The lack of constant sustenance had been difficult to manage at first, but he'd learned. People threw away perfectly good food every day, finding something to eat in the garbage wasn't complicated. He preferred the food at the shelters, warm and filling, it brought back the ghosts of memories, feelings, but not long enough to dissect them.

His mind was in shambles, but some days he got back a small memory, a word, a picture, it gave him hope. He wrote down everything he remembered whenever it came back, even if he couldn't make sense of most things. The man from the bridge, Steve, appeared in most, but those were the ones which made the least sense: the Steve from his memories was sick and small, thin and weak… the man from the bridge was stronger than the Soldier.

He remembered the missions, the unending stream of killings. Even though those were painful, he always wrote them down. There was nothing he could do to take back all those deaths, but he could at least honor them by not forgetting.

He didn't remember the industrial building in front of him, but nowadays that wasn't a surprise. He'd been in Boston for two weeks, the information he'd gotten in his last raid pointed here, but after eight months of disappointment he didn't want to get his hopes up. Three days of scouting this building had brought him to this moment. He was certain it was the place he looked for. It had to be.

Deciding to not waste more time, he left his post in the opposite building and walked to the front door, no point in trying to be discrete. If he hadn't missed anything, and he never did, this was the only point of entrance and exit. His metal hand ripped the control panel from the side of the door, he expected an alarm, but nothing sounded. _Am I in the wrong place?_

He wasn't. Two people came running at him, guns blazing. Bullets bounced off his metal arm, the ugly thing was a pain in the ass, but at least it was useful in a fight. Two bullets were enough to take care of the Hydra agents. He kept walking down the hall, sending up clouds of dust with every step, it seemed like not many people walked around that base. That gave him pause, why would they keep her in a place so unprotected?

There was only one room at the end of the hall. He pushed the heavy door open, his breath catching at the sight in front of him. She was there. He'd finally found her. The big space was full of equipment, mostly things he didn't recognize, except for one: the chair. That fucking chair where they'd robbed him of his memories, his free will. Rage filled him, were they using this on her too?

Two strides and he was standing beside the metal box. A small cristal window allowed him to look inside, to see her peaceful face, frozen in sleep. _How am I going to get you out of here?_ Doubt churned through him like ice, freezing his rage. Her safety was of the utmost importance to him, risking her wasn't an option.

While he evaluated his options, looking for the fastest way to get out of that plight, a door opened from the end of the room. He'd been too preoccupied to look around. His own sloppiness infuriated him, he wouldn't get far taking those kinds of risks. The person walking into the room didn't appear to be a threat, but the Soldier wasn't taking any more chances.

He pointed a gun at the head of the person. "Turn around very slowly if you don't want your brains splattered all over the wall."

His deep voice resonated through the room, turning it more eerie. His gun was directed at a tall woman in her sixties, he estimated, the way she held herself was not that of a trained agent.

"Please, don't shoot me," she raised her hands above her head", I'm a doctor" her voice was tinged with desperation "I don't have anything to do with these guys".

A doctor. She could be useful. The Soldier had already been thinking of a hundred ways to kill her, but her declaration gave her pause. He didn't know how to get his friend out of the ice without hurting her, but a doctor should know.

"What are you doing here?" He tried to minimize the harshness in his voice, but it was impossible.

"They brought me in two days ago, took me from the hospital when my shift ended. They wanted me to monitor her, get her out of the ice".

Could he trust her? His instincts weren't giving out warnings about her, but he wasn't sure about how much he trusted his instincts in that moment. He decided that she was the best option, getting her out of the ice himself wasn't the best plan.

"Can you do it?" She gave a trembling nod. "Do it."

The gun was still in his hand, but no longer pointed at her. Her trembling fingers started pushing buttons on the computer beside the box, a hiss of air signaling its opening. He almost fell to his knees when he got the first good look at her. Everything he'd done since the helicarriers had brought him here, every action, every decision driving him towards this moment. For a second, an unknown feeling of peace filled him, was this what it felt like to complete a mission on his own, because he wanted to? Nothing in his life had felt like this, so exhilarating.

"Are you going to hurt her?" The doctor's words brought him back from his trance. "I'm not waking her up if you're gonna hurt her."

Her defiant look surprised him, would she go against the soldier the protect the sleeping woman? He hadn't thought so at first, but maybe she would, doctors were supposed to take care of people, weren't they?

"My only goal is her safety."

She kept pushing buttons, reading information on the screen. Then she put some cables in the woman's chest, a red line showed on the screen, slight disturbances every few seconds. He knew enough of modern medicine to know it was her heartbeat.

"This might take a few hours, I've never done this, but the information they gave me explained the procedure, I'm confident it won't take too long. "He hoped she was right, the wait had taken long enough already. "What is she to you, if I may ask?"

He didn't know how to answer. She was his partner, wasn't that enough? She was the only person he remembered besides the man on the bridge, but she was different. He didn't know much about her, but he had her picture, had kept it in a safe place, his mind hadn't forgotten it, so it had to be important. She had to be important. Looking for her had been his only drive these last months, he would've lost his last bit of sanity if it wasn't for her. He remembered her smile, her laugh, some feeling he wasn't able to identify.

"That doesn't concern you."

After one hour he felt too jittery to stand still, so he started sweeping the place. There wasn't much, a few folders in a desk at the end of the room, some boxes full of medical devices he didn't understand. There was a bathroom behind the door the doctor had come from, nothing useful in there either.

"If you're looking for information, the only thing they had was this," she took a small black notebook from her pocket.

It reminded him of a red notebook, but when he tried to think harder about it, his brain hurt too much, he couldn't afford to chase after memories in that moment. He took it from her hand and put it in his bag, he'd take care of it later.

"How much longer?" His patience was wearing thin, staying in one place too long wasn't safe, and if that place was a Hydra base… he didn't want to think about them controlling him again.

"I can't say for certain, but it shouldn't be long, her pulse is steady, her temperature seems to be normal, a bit higher that I would expect, but I've never unfrozen anyone so…" she took a steadying breath and asked "are you going to kill me?"

He shook his head. "Not if you help her".

He didn't want to keep killing people, not good people at least, and she didn't have anything to do with Hydra. Her being there was probably more of a wrong place, wrong time situation.

A gasp sounded from the box, alerting him. The first thing he saw when he looked inside was a pair of deep blue eyes staring blankly at him. Beautiful eyes that didn't recognize him.

* * *

A/N: I hope this looks alright because I still don't understand the posting process too much hahahaha. Enjoy it! And please, if you see any mistakes, tell me.


	3. Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

* * *

She was almost unresponsive. The only movement came from her eyes, shifting constantly to take in her surroundings. She was strapped down, unable to come out of the box, but it didn't seem to bother her.

"Is she alright?" The doctor didn't know or was too afraid to answer him.

Had they hurt her? Had he been so preoccupied with getting her back that he'd made a mistake? He remembered when he'd left the ice the last time, someone from Hydra had been there to get him through the first stages, recoding his brain so the Soldier was the only voice inside. There should be a way to initialize her.

"Her body is working fine, but her mind might be in a state of shock. I don't imagine being thawed is very usual, "it was for them, but she didn't have to know that" so maybe she just needs some time. Getting her out of there would be a good start".

He unstrapped her slowly, so as not to startle her. She wasn't moving, so he helped her out of the box and sat her in the chair the doctor had vacated.

"What's her name?" The doctor was standing beside him, arms crossed against her chest. "Maybe that would make her respond."

He was ashamed to admit that he didn't remember it. "I'm not sure," he muttered.

"Isn't she your friend?"

"I haven't seen her in a long time… she doesn't look like she remembers me."

"Give me the notebook," he sent her a hesitant look "I'm not going to hurt her, just want to see if it says something useful."

He gave it to her. "Don't try anything."

He hoped the notebook had an answer, because he sure as hell didn't. _I should've tried harder, gotten more information, what if I can't help her?_ He'd wanted to find her and get her free, no one deserved to be a slave to Hydra, but maybe she was better off in the ice, not knowing anything else. _No. She deserves to be free._

"I think these words might make her respond." The doctor was pointing at a list of ten words, written in Russian.

_NO. NO. NOT THE WORDS._ His mind rebelled against the idea of using them, he didn't know why, but the list gave him a bad feeling. If Hydra had used them, they couldn't be good, he wouldn't do that her.

"Don't use the words."

"What do you propose instead, then?"

"Leave." If the doctor couldn't help them any longer, then there wasn't a point in her being there. "Don't speak a word of this."

"I can't leave in good conscience while she's like this."

"LEAVE!" His shout scared her enough to send her running as fast as her old joints could handle. There was no doubt that she wouldn't say a word about them.

The notebook had fallen to the ground in front of him. Maybe reading it would give him more information, another option, so he didn't need to use the words. She was exactly where he'd left her, sitting without moving a muscle, unblinking eyes staring at nothing. They had to leave, she wouldn't be able to defend herself in that state and, if enough people came, his strength could only stop them for a short time.

"Come on, we're leaving."

He caught her hand in his right one and tugged, she got up without complaint, although he would've preferred if she said something, an objection was better than nothing. He dragged her around the room, putting every paper and useful thing in his backpack, after checking that he hadn't left any clue about her in that place, they went to the outer door. The bodies of the Hydra operatives were in the same place, he would have to come back and get rid of them as quickly as possible.

Just before leaving, he realized that her look wouldn't blend anywhere, much less in the side of Boston they were on. He clothed her in a black hoodie he'd kept in his backpack, putting a black beanie and sunglasses on her. If they crossed someone, they might wonder why she was wearing sunglasses at that time of night, but they would probably assume that she was drunk. He put on his own cap and fastened his jacket, keeping the gun in his left pocket.

They'd been walking for a while when she suddenly stopped. She was staring intently at the storefront of an art shop, where beautiful paintings were displayed.

"Do you… do you like art?" She gave a small nod, almost imperceptible. "I will get you some supplies, but we have to keep walking."

He practically dragged her from the shop, keeping up their brisk pace until they got to his building. He'd been staying in the dilapidated building for five days, there was no electricity, but the running water was working and he'd been able to shower, although the cold water hadn't been very nice in the freezing Boston winter.

After eight flights of stairs, they entered his flat, completely empty except for an ancient sofa bed and his duffel bag. He led her to the bed, prompting her to sit down. He let out a groan, dragging a hand down his face, what was he going to do with her? He decided to make her comfortable, taking off the glasses and her military boots. Her feet were freezing, so he put a pair of thick socks on them.

_Food. Food makes everything better_. He searched through his duffel, but the only edible thing was a box of chocolate cookies. A few months ago, he'd discovered he had a sweet tooth, so he endeavored to eat as much as possible to make up for the lost time. He took one for himself and another one for her, putting it in her hand. Her reaction was instant this time: she sniffed the cookie and, after a few second, took a small bite. A small moan of appreciation left her mouth before she could stop it, that was the first bite of food she'd had in a long, long time. He kept giving her cookies until the box was empty.

He sat on the ground in front of her and, for the first time since he'd gotten her out of the ice, took a long look at her. She looked like the picture, not the one from the exhibit, that one he still didn't understand, but the one in his pocket, which he'd kept always close. Her strawberry blonde hair was in a long braid down her back, some tendrils had escaped and grazed her face. Her skin was lighter than he remembered, freckles dotting her nose and cheeks, but that could be caused by her time out of the sun. She was on the skinny side, but still had some strength in her body. Her eyes looked the exact same as in his dreams, a pale greenish blue in the center, a ring of a deeper blue surrounding it. Her full lips were slightly open, dark crumbs on them. He wiped them with his thumb even before realizing what he was doing.

"Sorry." His whisper broke the silence in the flat. "Do you remember me?" At her blank look, he tried in Russian.

"_Soldat_."

Her voice was rough from disuse, but the word gave him chills. She remembered the Soldier. He could help her remember more.

"_What about your name, do you remember it_?" Maybe it was wishful thinking, but he hoped she did.

"_Морриган_." Morrigan.

No, that wasn't the name he wanted. It was good to know that she knew something about themselves, only he needed more.

"No, not that name. Your real name." He placed his right hand on his chest "James." Then he took her hand and placed it on her chest.

It was the first time he had referred to himself as James. It didn't seem right to take Bucky's name, but he wasn't the Soldier anymore, and she would need something to call him. James was the more neutral option, he still didn't recognize himself as anything resembling that man, but he was light years away from being Bucky. Who knew if he'd ever be Bucky again.

"S-, Ssss-…"

He stopped her, seeing she was getting agitated. "Don't worry, it will come to you in time." Maybe he would remember her name before she did. "You should rest, we're leaving in the morning."

He didn't know why he felt so awkward. She was with him, he'd completed his mission. Only she wasn't really there, just her body. He needed her mind, needed her to get better. Maybe then he could allow himself to relax a bit, give his mind some time to recover.

She sat with her back against the wall, hugging her bent knees, head lying in her arms. The position made her look innocent, but he knew that if she wanted to, she could kill him before he knew what hit him. Surprisingly, the thought didn't worry him as much as he'd expected. The Soldier didn't feel intimidated by her, and even though that was probably one of her strong points as an assassin, he felt some trust towards her.

* * *

When she fell asleep, he went to take care of the bodies he'd left behind. The walk to the building should be shorter now that he was alone, and he could be there and back in ten minutes tops, not enough time for her to leave. Some shops were open, 24h stores that seemed to be very common in the big cities he'd visited. They were very useful for him, enough cheap food and not too much security, the staff wasn't overly worried about the people that walked into the store, also a plus for him. He decided to get some more cookies, she had liked them and, even if they weren't the most nutritious food, they would have to do until he discovered what she liked to eat. After buying two cups of coffee, he would need the caffeine in order to spend another day without sleeping, he continued on his path towards the Hydra base.

As he walked into the building, he realized he didn't know what to do with the bodies. That part of a mission had never been his problem. He leaned out of the door, there wasn't a soul on the street, perhaps he could drag them to the opposite building, where he'd been scouting from.

After getting rid of them, he swept the building, making sure he hadn't missed anything the last time. He couldn't allow Hydra or Steve Rogers to follow his steps, much less now that he had someone in his care.

The sun was starting to rise when he entered his building. Would she still be there? He didn't think she would leave, but if her mind was anything like his had been at the start of his freedom, there was no way to predict her actions. _God, I hope she hasn't left. _He was nervous, it'd taken him a while to identify the feeling, but he did. How long had it been since he'd been nervous about something? The Soldier had nerves of steel and he didn't really know if Bucky was one to get nervous around dames.

She looked up when he closed the door, even though he'd tried to be silent. She looked alert, not like she'd been sleeping five seconds ago. _Her senses might be better than mine, she must have heard me when I was coming up._

"I brought you some coffee," he gave her the cup, it wasn't as hot as when he'd gotten it, but it would be nice enough to warm them "and more cookies."

She took the box eagerly, putting it behind her back so he couldn't touch them, and then took the cup of coffee, smelling it like she'd done with the cookies the first time.

"I hope you like it." He rubbed the back of his neck with his right hand, the feeling of nervousness wouldn't go away and it was making him antsy.

She drank a big gulp, but seconds later every drop of coffee in her mouth was dripping all over his face. She had spit the coffee and was coughing hard, trying to rid herself of that awful taste. Her face turned from disgusted to horrified when she saw what she'd done. She turned and ran towards the corner of the room, making herself as small as possible.

"Shit. No, don't run. Nothing's wrong." He dried his face with the sleeve of his jacket. "Come here, please, I'm not going to hurt you. See? I'm not angry." His cheeks hurt from trying to stop the laugh that wanted to come out.

"I'm sorry, James." She said his name slowly, as if she was tasting the way it sounded in her mouth.

_She remembers me. _He couldn't contain his smile. She'd talked, said his name.

"Don't worry, doll." The endearment rolled off his tongue, but the term wasn't one he was familiar with.

He led her to the bed and sat down beside her, giving her enough space, he didn't want her to feel crowded or uncomfortable with him. She turned towards him, taking his metal hand between hers. He was frozen, afraid that any small movement in his prosthetic arm could hurt her, it didn't matter if she was a super soldier, his arm was too strong. Not seeing his discomfort, she put his hand above her heart, keeping it there with her own hands.

"Saoirse." She said her name in a small whisper, as if she wasn't really sure that it was right.

"Saoirse?" She nodded, a tiny smile gracing her face.

She touched his chest with her free hand, saying his name, "James," then she squeezed his metal hand, still resting above her heart, "Saoirse."

He couldn't believe it. Just in a few hours she had remembered more than he had in weeks. He probably wouldn't have known his name if it wasn't for the Captain America exhibit he'd visited. Was that because she hadn't been reprogrammed after waking up from the ice? Or was she simply stronger and better than him? He'd remembered some of their missions together and she'd never had any difficulty keeping up with him, in any case, it had been him the one to struggle to keep up, she'd been faster than him. Maybe, if her body was faster, her brain would be faster too. _She will get better soon._

Saoirse held out one of the cookies to him, prompting him to eat. "Eat. It's good". She wanted to share something she liked with him. He followed her lead, eating the cookies and drinking his coffee.

They had a long road ahead of them, but sitting together on that shitty bed, eating cookies, it didn't look as dark and lonely as it had before.

* * *

A/N:Enjoy!


	4. Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

* * *

They'd arrived at Sioux Falls, South Dakota, after two weeks of traveling. The first bus had taken them from Boston to Chicago, where they'd stayed for three days, their next stop had been Milwaukee, Wisconsin, where he had stolen a car. She'd been getting restless in the buses, too much time cooped up in the same place didn't agree with her, so he'd tried to find something to make their travels less of a bother for her.

She's spent the nine hours of drive between Milwaukee and Sioux Falls sleeping, only waking up to eat chocolate cookies and drink tea. Thankfully, there hadn't been a repeat of the coffee incident, he'd been trying to give her different drinks, like chocolate milk (a favorite of his) or tea, and the tea seemed to be her drink of choice, she guzzled down tea faster than he could get it for her. He was happy he'd found a drink she enjoyed, but food was still a problem, she only ate chocolate cookies and she refused to try anything else. It was driving him crazy, she couldn't live on cookies and tea, especially with their metabolism burning up calories like crazy. Maybe if she talked to him he could find something, some way to help her, but she hadn't uttered more than three words since they'd left Boston, and those had been all a grumbled no.

After getting a room in a motel outside of Sioux Falls, he'd left her in the room to take a walk around the neighborhood and find every route of exit, in case they needed to make a quick getaway. In his hand he carried a list of things he thought they needed, like winter clothes, since it was basically freezing in the north and, even if they could stand the temperatures, it would only call attention to themselves if they weren't the appropriate clothes, he also wanted to find new foods, to try and convince her to eat something. But the most important item on his list was getting some art supplies for Saoirse, he was hoping it would help her get out of her mind and start recovering. Perhaps he would get her a notebook too, so she could write what she remembered, it was kind of working for him and trying wouldn't hurt.

His first stop was a thrift shop. Finding clothes for himself was fairly easy, he didn't really care about them, as long as they fit and weren't too bright he was good to go. But he'd never bought clothes for another person, especially a woman. He didn't think Bucky had any experience with it either.

He kept walking around the aisles until a bubbly voice interrupted him. "Hello! Can I help you with something?"

He looked down. The sales clerk, a tiny young woman, was looking at him with a bright smile on her face. He decided to accept her help, being as he didn't know the first thing about buying clothes for a woman.

"Please."

"Great! What do you need?"

_God, she must be really bored if she's so happy to help me_.

"Hm… I'm looking for clothes for a woman, eh… 5' 8", a bit skinny, maybe?" The women from Bucky's mind had more meat on their bones, but he wasn't really sure about what was considered skinny or not.

"Oh! You're getting things for your girlfriend?" _Yeah, that's going to be a no, she doesn't even talk._ "That's so romantic! Do you have a picture on your phone or something? Can't really get much from your description…"

He didn't have a phone, but her picture was in his pocket, could he show it to this girl? Saoirse was sitting next to a rifle in the picture, but then, in America it wouldn't be too weird for the girl to notice. Whatever, the faster the shopping trip ended, the better. He got the picture from his pocket and showed her.

"Ohhhh! She's so beautiful! I bet you look great together." _Yeah, I bet we looked great when we were about to kill someone. _"What kind of clothes does she like?"

God, if he'd known he needed so much information to buy clothes, he would have gone more prepared. Shopping was worse than Hydra missions.

"Eh… dark, utilitarian, I don't think she's very worried about style." _She only worries about chocolate cookies_.

His internal monologue made him wish he could roll his eyes without offending the obliging girl. He needed the freaking shopping done yesterday.

"Well, she looks like the kind of girl who would look good in anything. I guess we'll go with the edgy look." He didn't know what that was, but followed the clerk dutifully through the store as she pilled loads of clothes in his arms. "Have her try everything on, and if she doesn't like something or if it doesn't fit you can bring it back and I'll give you something else. I'm sure she will appreciate you buying things for her anyway."

He left the store with three bags full of clothes and a promise to himself that he would never, ever, under any circumstance, go shopping for people. The clerk, who had saved his life, had told him about a stationary shop where he could get some art supplies for Saoirse. His trip to that shop was much faster, he had remembered about Steve drawing and, since art supplies weren't that different from his time, he had a slight idea about what to get. His last stop was a supermarket, thankfully it was almost empty, and his shopping went without a hitch.

It was snowing again when he got to the motel. Their room was on the second floor, the last in a long row of rooms. He'd asked for that one, it had a good position and they could leave fast. It was nicer than he'd expected for the price, but then, he was used to sleeping in abandoned buildings and shelters, so anything was a step up from that.

When he opened the door and didn't see her, his heart almost jumped out of his chest. She'd been sitting on the bed when he left, and, after a few seconds of searching, he found her sitting on the floor, her back against the farthest wall from the door.

"What are you doing there?" He knew it was pointless to ask, she wouldn't answer, but he could give her the opportunity anyway.

She didn't respond, instead she got up and, without saying anything, went to him. Saoirse wrapped her arms around him, squeezing him tight, and laid her head on his chest. The bags fell from his hands, arms wrapping around her instinctively.

"Don't leave." Her mumble was difficult to hear, but the sentiment was clear enough.

Was she worrying about him abandoning her? He thought she didn't really care if he left her in the room alone, had she been hurting the whole time?

"Fuck, I'm sorry doll. I'm not leaving you, ever, you hear me? You're stuck with me now." His words reminded him of Steve, of what he said before falling from the helicarrier, _I'm with you to the end of the line_. It wasn't that different from what he meant now. "C'mon, let's see what I bought, I got you some things."

James got everything out of the bags, laying it on one of the beds. She wasn't overly interested in the clothes, only taking a knitted sweater to wear with her black thermal, but as soon as she saw the sketchbook and the pencils, a big smile took over her face.

"Thank you." Her husky voice caressed the words, just as softly as she did everything. At first he'd thought her voice was raspy from disuse, but it hadn't changed, although with how little she talked, her voice wasn't getting exercised habitually. He'd noticed a slight accent, but he hadn't managed to place it, even though it sounded familiar.

She took her things to her bed, where she sat with her knees close to her body, her favorite position it seemed, and started drawing.

He laid down on the other bed, one arm behind his head while he tossed a knife in the air with the other, the mindless act relaxing to him. He needed to think about their next steps, his plan was to stay in Sioux Falls for a few days, a week at most, and then keep going west. His first thought had been getting as far away from Steve as possible, and since the Avengers were stationed in New York most of the time, going west had seemed as the best option, especially since Hydra held a long string of bases through the north side of the States.

They couldn't stay in America, it was too close to Steve for comfort. At first, one of his preferred destinations had been Russia, but his memories, few as they were, made him feel that he should go as far away from Russia as possible. Now his best option was Eastern Europe, he was familiar with the languages and he didn't think they would stand out there.

But how could they travel to Europe? A commercial flight was completely out, airports had too much security and his arm wasn't exactly inconspicuous. Nonetheless, a plane was the fastest way across the Atlantic. _Could I manage to steal a plane from Hydra?_ It would be hard, but it was an appealing option, the poetic justice wasn't lost on him. Doing it alone would be impossible, but he had someone with him now, someone who could help him achieve his goals. He would have to wait, she wasn't in any shape to carry out a mission of that size, but after she had recovered enough, his partner would be a great asset. Patience had always been a big part of his missions, so waiting now wouldn't be too much of a problem. He gave himself until June, if by then they weren't on top shape, he would have to find another way to leave America.

"Do you know how to fly a jet?" One of them would have to fly the quinjet and, if he was incapacitated in any form, she would have to do it, letting Hydra capture them wasn't an option.

She raised her head, looking weirdly at him, but after a few seconds, she gave him a small nod and kept doing whatever she was doing. _Does she really know how or is she just fucking with me?_ He couldn't understand how she could remember flying a plane if she couldn't even manage to tell him what foods she liked, but then, their training had been thorough, it wouldn't be surprising if she knew more about killing that she knew about herself.

He was dozing off when he felt eyes on him. "Saoirse." She hummed in response. "What are you doing?" He didn't expect a response.

"Drawing. Shut up."

James smiled. She didn't talk much, but when she did, she loved to order him around.

"Can I see?" She huffed out a no. "Please?"

"I said shut up."

He couldn't keep a laugh from coming out. James opened his eyes, she was sitting in her bed, facing him, but carefully keeping the sketchbook from his eyes. Her posture brought images of Steve to his mind, a sickly kid, lying in bed drawing. He got the notebook he used for memories from his backpack, writing that memory down before his brain took it away from him.

James looked at the clock on the big wall in front of the beds, a bright thing that contrasted with the dark green paint. It was late afternoon, so he decided to take a shower and give Saoirse some space. He took his clothes from the duffel and moved to the bathroom, avoiding looking at himself in the mirror. He knew his hair was getting too long again, wearing it in a bun was easier, not so many tendrils escaped from the hair tie, so he'd decided not to cut it. He would need to get over his aversion of looking at the mirror soon, it had been two months since he shaved for the last time, and doing it without looking at the mirror hadn't been too great. It was one more thing that he needed to do, instead of procrastinating.

When he got out of the bathroom there was a piece of paper lying on his bed. He opened carefully, trying to keep a neutral face. Well, he hadn't wanted to look at the mirror, but looking at that paper was kind of the same. She had drawn a portrait of him. In the portrait, he was lying on the bed, his head resting on his metal hand while the other hand twirled the knife around his fingers. His face was relaxed, eyes closed. He realized his beard was getting too long, it really needed a shave.

James was about to thank her for the drawing when she went running to the bathroom. It wasn't long until he heard the shower running. She was getting better, doing things for herself and by herself. The first time they'd been near a shower, he'd had to help her, showing her what to do. Thankfully it had been only that one time, because watching her with so little clothing and wet had made him feel weird.

When Saoirse came out of the bathroom, she was wearing sweatpants and one of his t-shirts, wet hair falling around her shoulders. She was carrying her hair brush which she gave to him.

"James, help me?" She sat down on the floor, in front of his bed.

_God, I don't think I'll ever be used to hearing my name from her lips_.

"Do you want me to braid your hair?" _Do I even know how to braid hair? _

"Yes, please." _Guess we'll see._

"Eat something, then," he wasn't above bartering with her if it meant she ate. "Not more chocolate cookies," he said when she saw her reaching for the box of cookies "take something from the bag I brought."

She emptied the grocery bag on the floor, spreading the contents around. He hadn't been very selective with his shopping, only getting lots of things with chocolate that he thought would call to her, fruits and some beef jerky completing his lot. She picked a box of chocolate protein bars and started eating them, one after the other. At least she ate a lot of what she enjoyed.

James stared blankly at the back of her head, how did one go about doing a braid? He decided to brush her hair first, getting out every tangle before doing anything else seemed like a sensible option. His next step was dividing the hair in three, he didn't really know what to do next, but his hands seemed to know instinctively. Soon, he found himself with a long braid in his hands, tied at the end with a leather cord Saoirse had been wearing on her wrist. _Look at that, seems like I have some skills beyond killing_.

"There you go, doll. Finish eating and go to sleep, we'll do something interesting tomorrow, I promise." He'd been thinking about getting her accustomed to the world again. Being around people and adapting to the ways of the world was important, he hoped she would get out of her shell, if only a bit.

* * *

Saoirse woke up to a scream, however, it wasn't in the way she was getting used to. The scream didn't come from her or James. Someone was crying on the street, not too far from their room. Whoever was crying sounded like a girl and that fact gave her all the resolve she needed. She put on her boots as fast as she could without waking up James and, after taking one of his knives, left the room. Stopping for a second to place the noise, she took off, jumping over the balustrade and landing on the ground floor, running as soon as her feet touched the ground. The noises were closer, although they were lowering in intensity, and they definitely belonged to a girl.

She stopped in front of an alley, between a diner and a bookshop, both closed. How could anyone be out at that time of night? It was freezing, literally, even she was getting cold. A whimper came from the back of the alley.

"Help! Please, someone help me!"

Saoirse walked briskly into the alley, fast enough to help the girl, but not so fast that she couldn't see what she was up against. There was a young man holding the girl up against the red brick wall, his hand down her trousers. The sight was enough to turn her stomach, everything she had eaten was about to come back up.

"Hey! Let her go." She hadn't spoken so loud since she had come out of the ice and her throat rebelled against the volume.

"Join the party or leave, sweetheart."

She wanted to kill him. "Let her go or I'm going to fucking kill you."

The girl ran away as soon as he took his hands off of her. The man came at her, arms wide open, as if inviting her to hurt him. She had to keep her cool, hold her punches, she was too strong for a normal human and a well placed hit from her could kill him. She didn't want to kill him too soon, he had to suffer for what he'd wanted to do to that girl.

"C'mon girl, not so brave now, uh?" He should stop taunting her, it would only make things worse for him.

She hit his stomach, making him bent down. Twisting his arm around, she drove her knee into his back, making him fall to his knees, trying to hold himself up with his free arm.

"Shit! You are crazy, let me go!"

"Not so fun when the one hurting is you, huh?" A bit more pressure and she would dislocate his arm. "You should know that when a girl says no, she means no. There's no in-between."

A small noise distracted her from her victim. Someone was walking towards them.

James was standing a few meters away from her, eyes alert, and he looked angry as hell. "Saoirse, let him go."

"No. He deserves this."

"He's a piece of shit, and he'll get what he deserves, but not from you. We're not that anymore."

"Man, help me! She's out of her mind!" The man's voice reflected the gut-wrenching pain he was feeling.

James didn't deign to look at the sad excuse of a man Saoirse was holding. He deserved the pain he was feeling, but he wouldn't allow her to kill him. That wasn't who she was.

"Release him."

James sounded scary, but she wouldn't back down. "No."

James' reaction was instant, he threw a knife at her and, in order to dodge it, she had to release the man, who didn't waste time and ran away. She was about to follow him when James caught her.

"You let him get away! I had him!"

James had a tight hold of her neck, his metal arm immovable. Nothing she tried made him release her.

"We don't kill people." _Not anymore_.

"Ugh, ok, all right. You can let go of me now."

"Can I?"

His metal hand was caressing her neck now, and she pushed against it to make him get away from her. She turned around, looking at him with fire in her eyes, tendrils of hair that had escaped her braid during the fight framing her face.

"Why did you do that? He was a bully, he deserved it."

"I'm not saying he doesn't but killing him was not the solution."

James turned from her and started walking out of the alley.

"Where are you going?" She didn't like that he was leaving her mid-fight.

"To find that asshole and get him to the police station. Go back to the room. You better be sleeping when I get back."

She stood there, watching his retreating shadow. Before that night, she'd never felt so angry, so full of rage, but watching that asshole hurt the girl had made something click in her mind. She hated men who took advantage of women and she hated bullies, that guy had been both. But James was right, killing him wasn't a good choice. She knew they weren't supposed to go around killing people.

"God, I need a cookie."

She started walking back to the motel, hoping to get back before James. She didn't have the energy to fight with him. Her sudden outing had sucked the life out of her, her only wish was to curl down in bed and sleep for a long time.

* * *

A/N: I didn't really know where to cut that chapter, but it was getting long, so there it is. I watched Captain America: The Las Avenger again today, I can't believe I still cry when Bucky and Steve "die"!

I hope you enjoy this chapter!


	5. Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

* * *

James hadn't gone back to their room till sunrise. The events of the night had shaken him to his core. He'd woken up, maybe a few minutes after she left, and, when he realized she wasn't there, he had been terrified. He didn't think he'd been so damn scared in his whole life. Hundreds of scenarios had run through his mind, each more terrifying: had she left him? Had someone taken her against her will? Was she hurt, scared? The second he'd heard that man screaming he'd taken off running towards the sound, hoping to find her safe and sound. The scene he'd found was completely unexpected, there, in the back of the alley, was Saoirse, about to tear that man's arm from his socket.

The scene had brought back memories, countless images of a small Steve being beaten in alleys. The stream of memories had come even faster after he'd stoped Saoirse, when she'd called the man a bully. His head had hurt too much to deal with her in that moment, so he'd told her to go back to the room while he hunted down the man.

When he'd walked back into the room, after a few hours of sitting on the rooftop, he'd found her lying in his bed, curled in a tight ball. Every bit of anger slipped from his mind in that instant, watching her face relaxed in sleep. God, he'd been scared witless, how could she make him feel so much when they didn't remember much of each other? In that sense, Saoirse reminded him of Steve. Except for the fact that he was scared to face Steve, thought the man might expect more than he could give him. Steve wanted Bucky, and James was not him. The only thing he had in common with the man he'd been was that he didn't wish to see Steve hurt. That was why he had to stay away from him. He didn't want to see the pain and disappointment in Steve's face when he discovered that his friend was dead.

He sat carefully on his bed, trying to not disturb her sleep. His cautiousness had been in vain, as soon as he was comfortable, she turned around and cuddled his leg. He rested his right hand on her head, idly stroking her hair. He would keep watch over her, it wasn't as if he could sleep after the stressful night they'd had.

"Are you mad at me?" She asked in a small voice.

He kept caressing her hair. "No."

She moved, sitting up beside him, her face stricken with worry.

"I don't know what came over me… I just… I had to help the girl, and I was so angry at him for daring to hurt her… I know I shouldn't have tried to kill him. Good people don't kill. I want to be good."

He touched her cheek, lifting her head so he could look at her eyes.

"You are good, Saoirse. And I don't blame you for wanting to hurt him, he certainly deserved it, but we don't have to kill, that's not who we are anymore." She nodded, a small smile on her face. "I admit that controlling those urges is difficult, but the most important thing is that we try. Practice makes perfect, right?"

She rested her head on his shoulder, arms going around his torso to hug him.

"Why did you get me out of the cryogenic chamber? _Huh, so that's the name of the box._

"Would you have preferred that I didn't?" He hoped she didn't, thinking about letting her down made his chest hurt.

"No. I like being with you. I don't… what I remember about before is…" She didn't know how to explain that every little thing she'd remembered was connected to Hydra and to killing, those memories made her feel awful. She felt trapped in her mind, that's why she hadn't talked a lot, it was just more work than her mind could manage while the flood of memories invaded her mind. "I like being with you. It feels right."

"I'm glad you think so."

For him, being in his own those first months had been a nightmare. The only thing that had kept him going was his mission, but some days even that wasn't enough. His mind played tricks on him, the Soldier taking the wheel while he felt like an intruder in his own body. Attempting to remember had been painful, but ignoring the memories hadn't worked. After weeks of wandering, trying to remember something about Hydra that got him closer to his partner, he'd discovered that writing down things seemed to help. He'd gotten the notebook on a whim, thinking it would be good to jot his plans down before he forgot them. The memory lapses were even worse than the onslaught of memories, they could get him seriously hurt, or worse, back in Hydra's hands.

"Do you remember a lot?"

"Depends on the day. Mostly it's just flashes, but sometimes there's just so many things going through my mind that I can't function. Looking for you helped. And I… there's more memories coming since you're with me."

"How do you make sense of them? I feel like I'm going crazy." A frown appeared on her face. "God, I'm interrogating you, I'm sorry."

James smiled at her. He didn't mind her interrogation, he would answer every little question she had if it helped her.

"I don't mind, doll. Ask whatever you want."

"Why do you call me doll?"

_Shit_. He shrugged his shoulder. "Don't know, just feels natural, I think, familiar. Do you want me to stop doing it?"

She shook her head, a small smile playing on her lips. "No. It's nice. I like it."

_Damn, she's got me wrapped around her little finger. You're in deep trouble, Barnes_.

He decided to change the topic, steering the conversation in a different direction might stop the weird feeling in his body.

"We're going out today, I'll get you a notebook so you can write what you remember. It should help."

They took turns using the bathroom, James going in first. He wanted to take her to the diner near the motel. The morning rush wouldn't be for a couple of hours yet, so people wouldn't be a problem, furthermore, it was close enough to the motel to offer a quick escape to a controlled environment if one of them got overwhelmed. He thought she was ready to face more people, even if the debacle of the night before seemed to point in the opposite direction. That morning she was feeling good enough to have a conversation with him, maybe she would want to try new foods. If they were lucky, the diner might shake loose some memories for either or both of them.

He was fresh from the shower, standing before the mirror, but trying to avoid looking at his reflection. _You need to toughen up James, if she's getting better, so should you._ He didn't want to see his metal arm, the point where it connected to his body was a mess of scars, swollen and painful. The arm was a reminder of what he was: a killer, a puppet. He didn't want to see the Soldier when he looked at the mirror.

He took a deep breath, bracing himself, and closed his eyes. When he opened them, it was like he was staring at a stranger. He wasn't the Soldier anymore, his eyes weren't the vacant blue of the Soldier, neither were they Bucky's warm eyes, eyes that transmitted happiness and joy, even in black and white. James' eyes were a crystalline blue, like the waters of seas he didn't remember seeing.

He dragged a hand down his face, a deep exhale leaving his lips. _Small steps, small steps,_ he reminded himself. Seventy years of torture wouldn't vanish away.

"James? Are you nearly done? I'm hungry."

Saoirse's voice startled him into action. He pulled his hair in a bun, the easiest way to keep it out of his face, after pulling on jeans and a thermal T-shirt, he left the bathroom to Saoirse, who walked in with a spring in her step. He put on his worn black boots, at first he'd thought that they would call too much attention to himself, but it seemed like people didn't really care about what others wore, even if some things were really questionable choices in his opinion. His black jacket was getting a bit threadbare around the edges, but it was thick and warm, and the most important thing, it was comfortable and hid his metal arm.

He waited, sitting on the bed, black gloves resting on his knees. No one had asked about his gloves yet, even when he'd worn them during the summer, only in his left hand. They probably thought that his hand was deformed or something. Was Saoirse repulsed by his arm? He hadn't thought about hiding it from her, maybe he should've. He didn't want her to be put out by his arm, he already hated it enough as it was.

Saoirse opened the bathroom door. "Do you think I might have been a spy?" The weird question rushing from her lips.

James was dumbfounded by the question. "What?"

"Me. A spy. Do keep up, James."

"Uh… I don't know." He thought she'd been an assassin, like him, they'd gone on missions together, so it made sense in his mind. But maybe they'd been paired up because they had different fields of expertise? "Why? Do you think you were?"

"I don't know," she pursed her lips "but it would be cool, don't you think?" He shrugged, he didn't think Hydra would care about the distinction between spy and assassin. "I'm sure I would be a good spy, I like watching people."

"C'mon, you can practice your spying today, but we need to get some food in you first." He got up, walking to the door, but then realized she wasn't following him "Don't you want to go?"

She twirled a strand of hair in her fingers, not looking at him. "I… do you think it's safe?"

"No one is going to hurt you." He would never let anyone hurt her, and after last night, he didn't think she would have any trouble defending herself.

"I'm not worried about myself," her voice sounded softer with every word, as if she was embarrassed "but what if I hurt someone?"

He took her hand in his, stopping her nervous movements. Giving her hand a reassuring squeeze, he said "You're not going to hurt anyone," she opened her mouth to protest, but he stoped her, "and I'll be there the whole time, don't worry."

* * *

It was freezing outside, rests of days old snow making the streets muddy. A cloudless sky greeted them, the sun was out, but its heat didn't reach them. Saoirse wrapped the scarf tighter around her neck, hoping for some protection against the frigid air, and walked close to James. His strides were long and confident, stepping around patches of melted snow and holding her hand after he realized she wasn't having an easy time maneuvering over the wet pavement.

When they walked into the diner, it felt like heaven. It was toasty warm inside, the smell of coffee in the air. James inhaled deeply, he loved the smell of coffee. The same couldn't be said for Saoirse, who was hoping with all her might that they had something besides coffee.

They sat at the end of a long line of vintage tables, choosing the one which had the best view of the door. As soon as they sat down, a waiter came to take their order, offering lots of different choices. Saoirse was completely lost, how could she know what she would like?

"Uh… will you choose for me, James?

He nodded, asking the waiter for pancakes, eggs, bacon, coffee, tea… when he finished his order, the old man looked at them funny.

"You sure you can pack away all that?" James gave him a nod, not only could they eat a lot, but they needed it. "Huh, you youngster have healthy appetites. I'll be back with your drinks in a second."

"Will I like that?" James always tried to make her try different foods, but she was only partial to chocolate cookies and tea. No coffee for her, not after her first try.

"Pancakes and chocolate? You're going to love it, tomorrow you'll be back here asking for more, no doubt about it."

He was right, she'd absolutely loved the pancakes, even ordering another plate. Saoirse went to the toilet, her hands in need of a deep cleanse after the chocolate sauce dripped all over her, so James used the chance to pay for their breakfast. He walked up to the bar, observing the diner. The décor was kind of old, but he couldn't place the decade, it might have been after he became the Soldier.

"Is the bookshop next door any good?" He thought Saoirse might enjoy getting some books to pass the time, and he wouldn't mind reading something new, although the list of what he'd missed in the last seventy years was long, so he wouldn't worry about what to read for a long time.

"You'll find anything in there. I'm sure your girlfriend will enjoy it, she looks like the type to like those things."

James didn't know what type he meant, but he went on with it. "Do they sell notebooks and things like that?"

"Yeah, though if you want something very specific you should visit the art store, it's right down the street."

"All right, thank you." He saw Saoirse coming out of the toilets, so he wrapped up his conversation with the waiter. "Have a good day, sir."

"You too, young man, and take care of that sweet girlfriend you got."

He shook his head, taking Saoirse's hand and dragging her towards the door. Why did everyone assume they were a couple?

"Why are you looking at me like that?" James had a strange look in his eyes, was something wrong with him?

"Huh?" Saoirse's question brought him out of his reverie. "Nothing, don't worry. Did you like your breakfast?"

"Yes! Everything was amazing, I didn't know I could eat so much!" _Well, you've been eating like two pounds of cookies a day_, he thought to himself. "Can we go back later?"

"Yeah, of course." Making her happy felt good, James noted, it was nice to see her feeling so well.

He opened the door to the bookshop, waiting for her to go in first. Rows and rows of bookshelves greeted them, he could see a couple of sofas in the back, a little girl sitting there while petting a fluffy white cat.

"Hello! Welcome to Middle-Earth Books, take a look around, I'm here to help if you need it."

They started walking around the bookshelves, enjoying the smell of books. Saoirse was frowning, lost in thought.

"Hey, what's wrong?"

She looked up at him, a sad smile on her face. "I don't remember which books I like." She was gripping his hand, squeezing it hard.

He put his right arm over her shoulders, lightly hugging her, hoping to offer her some comfort. "I'm sure we'll find something you like, just like with the food. C'mon, look around, we'll get whatever you like."

He sent her on her way and took off towards the stationery section, in search of a notebook where she could write down her memories. There were hundreds of options, but he didn't really care about the design, so he picked a white one. Saoirse could draw on the cover if she wanted to change it. He chose a red one for him, since the one he was using was almost on its last pages. His notebooks were his most important possessions, everything that went through his mind ended up written there, every little thing he remembered about his life. He re-read them every night before falling asleep, hoping to tattoo the memories in his mind so he never forgot again. There were only two other things he cared about, and one of them was the black notebook that the doctor had given him when he'd rescued Saoirse. He didn't really know what to do with it, so he decided that he would give it to Saoirse some day, when she was better.

He picked up a few pens and went to look for Saoirse. He found her sitting in one of the sofas, the white cat purring in her lap while she talked to the little girl. She got up when she saw him, walking towards him after saying goodbye to the little girl.

"I found a book! Look!" She gave him the book, _The Hobbit_, with a big smile on her face. "Lily told me it was her favorite, and there's more, can I get the others too?"

He assumed Lily was the little girl. "Of course."

When they came out of the shop, Saoirse was almost jumping around with excitement. She felt like she was walking on air, how could this day be going so well after what she'd done last night? She owned everything to James, he'd made this day amazing. She didn't remember being so happy in her whole life: she had eaten amazing food, she'd found great books, she'd even made new friends!

"I'm so happy, James!" Whatever had happened with Hydra, her missing memories… everything seemed to belong to another person, those things didn't weight on her right then. She felt like she was floating on air. Sadly, things came crashing down in the next second.

James gripped her arms suddenly, so hard it almost hurt, and turned her around, pushing her back against the wall. He was looking at her, his breath hard and uneven, his eyes reflecting the anxiousness he was feeling.

"Shit, what's wrong?"

"Don't move," he whispered "and don't look away from me. There's two men on the other side of the street, at the other end of the crosswalk."

"Hydra?" Her voice trembled when she said the word.

He shook his head, his hold tightening on her arms. "No. But they've been looking for me and they are coming closer. I can't let them see us. But if we move, they'll notice."

_Fuck, how can this be happening? _His mind was frantic, searching for a solution to the impossible situation they'd found themselves suddenly in. Steve was walking towards them with the other man, the one who had wings all those months ago. They hadn't seen them, but with every step they were getting closer, they would find him, take him away from Saoirse. God, he'd thought he'd been doing everything right, being careful. How had Steve found him?

"Do you trust me?" He answered her question with a nod, he couldn't even find his voice with all the panic running through his blood. "Ok. Ok." She took a deep breath. "Don't move, and stop panicking. I've never done this, but I think it will work. Told you I'd been a spy before."

The words rushed from her mouth, not helping his panic, until she shut up and put her lips against his. _Fuck, she's kissing me_. The feel of her lips erased every other thought from his mind.

* * *

A/N: There you go! I hope you enjoyed it, the next chapter will be posted soon (I hope). Thank you for your reviews, ebarnea25 and living-life-on-the-edge, they mean the world to me.


	6. Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE

* * *

"Steve? What's wrong, man?"

They'd been walking down the street, about to cross to the other side, when Steve had seen something. Across from them there was a couple, locked in an embrace, and he was staring straight at them, a frown on his forehead. He'd thought he'd seen Bucky. But Bucky wouldn't be standing there kissing some girl, would he? Maybe the Bucky from their time, but not the Bucky who'd been the Winter Soldier. There was no way that he was there, in Sioux Falls, having a passionate kiss with the redhead woman while he was standing across the street from him.

"That's just two people kissing. You need to get laid, Cap."

_Yeah, as if my life wasn't messy enough right now_. Sam sounded exactly like Natasha when she was trying to find him a date. He knew that looking at a stranger as he'd been looking was weird, it made him uncomfortable when people looked at him like that, so he what it felt like. But the woman had looked familiar, even though he'd gotten just a small glimpse of her face before the man moved her. Bucky couldn't have been the man. _I'm just going crazy, my mind is playing tricks on me now_. When he looked again, the couple had moved away and was walking down the street, hand in hand.

"C'mon, the diner is right there. My parents are going to love you."

Steve knew Sam was excited about him and his family meeting, but he couldn't help but be nervous, what if he was a bother? "Are you sure they don't mind having me here for the weekend?"

Sam scoffed. "Of course not, they'd love you even if you weren't Captain America, you'll see. Mom's half in love with you already, after all I've told her about you."

"All good things, I hope."

"Like you have bad ones," Sam rolled his eyes "stop worrying, Steve. And don't give your Captain America glare to strangers, you're going to freak them out."

Sam's family owned a diner in the outskirts of Sioux Falls, he'd thought the place would be more deserted, since it wasn't near the center of the city, but the neighborhood was very lively, even when the snow and the cold weather. He'd seen more shops on their walk, like an art shop he was planning to visit at the earliest opportunity.

Steve hadn't wanted to deviate from his search, but Sam had convinced him, and, standing just inside the diner, inhaling the smell of coffee in the air, he realized that his choice had been right. He needed a rest, the search for Bucky was driving him crazy. And if Sam thought he needed a break, he was probably right.

"Son!" A petite woman came rushing from the kitchen, her face an older version of Sam's. "Oh, I didn't expect you until later in the day. Why didn't you call, now I don't have anything nice prepared for you!" She hugged Sam close to her, holding him tight. "I'm so happy you could come."

"I'm happy too, mom. This is Steve."

"Oh! Steve, I'm so sorry! I didn't see you, come here." She gave him a hug, squeezing him as hard as she had squeezed Sam. Steve savored the hug, it'd been so long since he'd received affection like that. "You're even more handsome than in the pictures." Her soft hand patted his cheek, making him smile bashfully.

"Give him some space mom. Well, Steve, this is my mom, Elizabeth. Every good thing I am comes from her."

"And don't you forget it, young man!" She was hugging Sam again. "And call me Beth, Steve, no need to be too formal."

"Nice to meet you, ma'am. You brought up a great man, I wouldn't be here without him." He offered her his hand to shake, but she hugged him again.

"Thank you Steve, he's all straightened out now, isn't he?"

"Mom! Don't believe a word she says, Steve, I've always been an angel. Where's dad? I thought he'd be here, he loves serving breakfast."

"He's taking some breakfast to Lily, he'll be back in a second, don't worry. C'mon, sit down, I'll get you something to eat. Get comfortable, Steve."

He sat in front of Sam, in a cozy armchair. God, he felt so good there.

"I don't know how you could leave this place, Sam, it's… there's no words."

"Wait till you taste mom's cooking, then you'll think something's wrong with me."

There was definitely something wrong with Sam. His mom was an amazing cook, every bite he took was feeding his soul. The taste was so good it made him forget about the search for Bucky, if only for a second. _I'll bring Buck here when I find him, he's going to love this food_.

* * *

Saoirse was the one to end the kiss, resting her forehead against his. She hoped it hadn't bothered James, but she thought the display of affection would make whoever was looking stop doing it. "Did it work?"

James closed his eyes, trying to erase the dazed look that was surely on his face. He felt her move, her forehead going to rest on his shoulder. His right hand came up instantly, massaging the back of her head.

"Yeah." He forced the answer from his mouth. Steve and the other man had moved, he could see them walking into the diner from the corner of his eye. He took a deep breath to try and brace himself, even if he didn't know for what. "Why did you do that?"

She nuzzled her face in his neck, trying to hide the blush she felt rising on her cheeks. "Why, did it bother you? I didn't want to make you uncomfortable."

Bother him? He didn't think whatever was going through his mind could be defined as bother, he didn't know what he was feeling. _It's just a kiss, part of the mission, nothing more_, he told himself. Maybe that was the problem, the kiss hadn't felt like part of a mission, it'd felt real, and it had filled his mind with images he was trying to repress.

"Don't worry. Come on, we need to leave."

The walk to the motel was shorter than before, he was in a haste to get them out of Sioux Falls, with Steve there, it wasn't safe anymore. It would disrupt his plans a bit, but nothing he couldn't manage. The only thing in his mind was keeping Saoirse safe. Even if objectively, he knew Steve wouldn't hurt anyone, much less a woman, he couldn't trust him, her safety was too important for him, and for the Soldier. Seeing her in danger would probably send the Soldier on a war path.

Saoirse followed his instructions without a sound of protest, picking up her things and packing them, in a few minutes there wasn't a trace of them in the room.

When they were safely inside the car and far enough from Sioux Falls, he stopped the car on the side of the road and took one of his notebooks from his backpack. That one had been used to write every little thing he remembered about Hydra (agents, bases…) while he was on his search for Saoirse. He needed to know if there was any city nearby that they had to avoid. Salt Lake City and Missoula were both on that list, the first had been the next stop on his search, and the second one would be their final destination before Europe, if they didn't mess up. He couldn't go near those cities, alerting Hydra to their location would be foolish. He decided to keep going west, driving in February wouldn't be fun, that's why he'd wanted to stay in Sioux Falls for a while longer, but they would have to face their odds on the road. Right then he only wanted to put as much distance between Steve and them as he could.

James could feel Saoirse staring at him. She wanted to know about Steve, why they'd had to hide from him. Talking about Steve was ward, but he could admit, even if only to himself, that Saoirse deserved to know what they were up against. Hydra wasn't their only problem, Steve was relentless in his search for Bucky and he wouldn't give up any time soon, if ever. He decided to brave it out and tell her at least who Steve was.

"He… he was my friend. Before."

"Your friend? Don't you want to see him?"

_I don't know. _"It's better for him if I don't."

"Will you tell me about him?"

"I don't remember… he is different, in my memories," he explained, "he was smaller, his body was weak. I don't know why he's like that now… it's… confusing, the Steve I remember looks nothing like he does right now, but his eyes are the same. So damn honest and open." He'd seen the pain and confusion in his eyes when he'd looked at the Soldier. When he'd told him that he wouldn't fight him.

"You were close with him?"

He didn't answer. _We were like brothers, that's why I can't let him find me. _Steve had messed up his mission, all those months ago, but he couldn't help but be thankful. Without Steve, he'd still be a minion, a pawn in the game Hydra was playing against the world. He wouldn't have remembered Saoirse, wouldn't have saved her. The need that had driven him to find his partner wasn't so dissimilar to what Steve might feel about finding Bucky, but that fact wasn't enough to let Steve find him. Saoirse had known the Soldier, even if she didn't remember him, he didn't need to put up a front, and they were going through a similar process, trying to find their missing memories. Steve would try to help him, he was good like that, but it wasn't fair to pile his problems on him. Even if Steve wanted to carry that weight on his shoulders, James didn't have anything to give in exchange, he couldn't bring Bucky back. Steve deserved better and Bucky would think the same, that much he knew.

"We're friends too, right? Not just partners." Her words came out softly, in a whisper.

"The Soldier and the Morrigan were partners. We're more." He didn't know if he would call them friends, but he cared about her, and she seemed to care about him too, that was enough for James.

"Even if we don't remember?"

"We'll remember." _Someday._

James exhaled a heavy breath. He turned on the radio, a song he didn't know or remember filling the air. Things would get better. They had to.

* * *

A/N: Hi! Just a short chapter today, I hope you don't mind the length. Next chapter will come soon, it's half written already.


	7. Chapter 6

**CHAPTER SIX**

* * *

They'd spent the rest of February and part of March on the road, staying only for a few days in each place. James didn't mind the constant moving around, but he thought that it was affecting Saoirse, she liked to stick to routines, and being on the move constantly wasn't helping her.

That day they would arrive at Port Angeles, Washington, and then drive to Lake Crescent. He hoped they could find a place there and stay for a few weeks, even months if nothing bad happened. Maybe the mountain air would make Saoirse feel better, if not, at least she would have nice views and inspiration for her drawings.

He had to admit that the idea of relaxing for a bit was nice, he wouldn't be able to let his guard down completely, but the notion was appealing anyway.

"This place is beautiful." Saoirse's whisper broke the silence in the car.

"We'll stay longer this time, I promise. We're not far from Port Angeles now, you should think about what you want to buy, we're getting low on food." Her eyes lit up at the mention of food, and, as if he could read her mind, he said, "You have to get something besides chocolate."

He could feel her eagerness deflating and had to hold back a chuckle. She was eating a variety of things now, but getting her to stop having chocolate as her main option was proving to be a difficult task. He'd thought he'd developed a sweet tooth, but Saoirse ate chocolate with an abandon no one else could manage.

"We need waffles, I finished the box yesterday." Waffles had become her latest obsession, but at least she ate them with fruit.

Their metabolism allowed them to eat whatever they wanted, since they burned through it without even trying, but that didn't mean that their bodies could function without a variety of vitamins and nutrients. He tried hard to make her eat different things, especially fruit and vegetables, but being on the road didn't lead to having an exceptionally healthy diet. That would change once they settled somewhere, he'd made a promise to himself, to cook real food, and his research had shown that some foods were really good for the brain, so he'd get lots of those.

"We'll start training tomorrow, if we find a good place." He needed them to get back to business. Since he'd found Saoirse he hadn't kept up with his training, thinking that it might bring back bad memories for her. But they needed to get to Europe, and that meant stealing a plane from Hydra. They wouldn't go against Hydra unless he knew that they had a fair chance at winning.

"Oh! I can't wait, it's been so long since I've exercised." He was glad to know that she didn't dread training. "It will be fun, right?"

_Yeah, an absolute ball._

* * *

"This is fun!" Saoirse's shrieks of laughter filled the forest.

They'd been running in the woods for more than an hour and she hadn't had so much fun in her whole life. It was exhilarating, running as fast as she could, it almost felt like flying. She was enjoying pushing herself, jumping across ravines, over rocks and fallen trees. But the best part was outrunning James, hiding from him and trying to catch him unaware.

He'd thought that a short run to warm up would do them well. That supposed short run had turned into more than a freaking hour running through the woods, wishing to God he'd kept his mouth shut. _What's the point of running? It's not like we need the exercise_. James had discovered that he didn't believe in running if it wasn't after or from someone. His hair was catching every disgusting thing possible, the earth was wet and mushy, in some places his feet got stuck… all in all, the experience was not something he was dying to repeat.

Saoirse was fast, faster than him, but she was noisier too, so the little game of hide and seek she was making him play wouldn't end with her winning. She had hidden pretty well, he could give her that, but her small giggles, almost inaudible, gave her away. He knew she wanted to get the jump on him, but it would be the other way around, he would make sure of that.

She was starting to get worried, had she gotten too far away from James? She didn't dare to move from her hiding place, but maybe if she took a small peek, only to check that he was still following, nothing would happen.

Suddenly, James jumped at her from behind, locking his arms around her. How had he gotten there so fast? She tried to get out of his hold, but it was in vain, his metal arm had a strong hold of her.

"Got ya'. Now what, doll?" He whispered, his warm breath tickling her ear while his hand rested lightly on her sharp jaw, immobilizing her head with the soft touch.

"How?! I thought you were far behind." Her harsh voice revealed her frustration.

"You're fast, but too noisy. I could hear you laughing from a mile away."

"That's not fair." Her full lips moved to form a small pout, frustration turned into disappointment.

He let her go, taking a few steps back to give them both a bit of space. When she turned around to face him, the pout was still in her face.

"You need to be quiet. Patience is also key, you were about to give out your position just by looking for me." A soft blush stained her cheeks. "If it's any consolation, there's not a lot of people that could have caught you."

"It's not. Can we keep running?" Her face turned hopeful again.

"No. We're going back to the cabin, walking." He refused to run back.

They started the walk back, side by side. Saoirse was restless, too much energy still running through her body. The run had served to energize her instead of tiring her out. James could clearly see that she wouldn't sleep until she got rid of all the extra energy.

"We'll spar when we get back, yeah? Maybe you'll beat me then."

"Not likely," she murmured, her voice sullen.

They'd rented a cabin near Lake Crescent using one of his fakes IDs. It was a tiny thing, built with wooden logs, a further from the lake than the other cabins, the secluded space fitting them perfectly. Saoirse loved it, all that wood gave it a cozy look, and the views were amazing. Her favorite part was the porch surrounding the house, since it was high, she could get glimpses of the lake. The interior was more spacious that the outside suggested, the open floor plan allowed every part to be filled with the light that came through the high windows, at least when the Sun wasn't hiding behind the clouds. The furniture was a bit rustic, but comfortable, and ten times better than anything they'd used lately. Some things were modern, like the kitchen appliances and the bathroom, but in general, everything was old. She could see them staying there for a long time, but she tried to not be too hopeful, their lives depended on too many things.

Sparring with James was fun, but it required more energy and concentration than running. He deflected all her attacks with the metal arm, knowing that it infuriated her, a small smirk appearing on his face every time she huffed in frustration. She needed to change tactics.

Instead of dodging his next hit, she let him strike her, falling to the ground with a pained cry. James dropped beside her, worried about having hit her too hard, and when he was distracted, she wrapped her legs around his, forcing his back to the ground and straddling him. She held his arms above his head, but he wasn't fighting against her hold, she would have trouble holding onto his metal arm if he did.

"Got ya'," she told him, a big smile on her face.

Her smile promptly disappeared when he turned the tables on her, using the same technique to turn them around, his metal hand was holding her wrists in an unbreakable grip while his knees made it impossible for her to move her legs.

"Don't let your guard down." She almost screamed in frustration. There was no way to beat him. "And don't get frustrated, it doesn't matter if you don't beat me, as long as you beat everyone else."

He helped her up. They'd gotten filthy rolling around in the dirt, mud staining their clothes and faces.

"How am I supposed to know if I can beat everyone else?"

"You can. Trust me."

She harrumphed. "Are we practicing with the knives?" Maybe she could beat him at that. She was fast with her hands.

He chuckled, "I'm not putting a knife in your hand, don't want you to slice my throat. Go take a shower, I'll cook dinner soon."

"I wouldn't cut you," she turned around, walking towards the cabin, "not too deeply," she added as an afterthought, "I guess."

_Let's not tempt fate on that one_. He stayed on the porch, thinking about their training. He wasn't sure about what he was doing. They needed the practice, but he didn't know how the Soldier would react in a threatening situation, maybe he wouldn't see her as his partner if he was cornered. She would still do great without practice. She was fast and strong, perceptive enough to know what to do in most situations. Her training would come through, even if she didn't remember.

He often debated with himself, had he done the right thing when he woke her from the ice without reprogramming her? He thought her recovery was going better because of that. Her starting point was some kind of blank, and, even if it was difficult to fill in the empty space, it was better than trying to take out the programming (he didn't know if that was even a possibility). She wasn't as dangerous as him because of that. He couldn't trust his mind, whatever Hydra had put in there, it wasn't disappearing, not at all. He feared that everything was just beneath the surface, the Soldier ready to attack at any second.

The memories kept coming, but most were the Soldier's memories: assassinations, missions, torture… it wasn't nice. He'd started to remember his time with her, some missions, and training days just like the one they'd had, but there was something he couldn't quite grasp yet, that something felt like it would help make sense of a lot of things, but it was just out of his reach.

Trying to put the memories in order was difficult, it wasn't like the Soldier was very interested in dates, but James kept trying to organize them by year, at least. It was taking a lot, for him to put that together, but he was almost sure that they hadn't always been partners. His earliest memories of her went back to the mid-seventies. Where had she come from? At first, he'd thought she had been someone from Bucky's live, but now, his hypothesis seemed implausible. He tried not to dwell on it too much, forcing himself to remember didn't help at all, it only made things harder.

"James! Shower's empty!"

* * *

He'd thought cooking would feel very mundane, a mindless task that wouldn't hold his interest. He was surprised to discover that it was the opposite, he found it calming, very enjoyable. It was kind of fun, almost, and watching Saoirse enjoy his cooking was certainly rewarding.

Dinner was usually a quiet affair. He didn't talk much, and Saoirse, who usually couldn't shut her mouth, was too busy eating. That night, she had decided to turn on the radio, filling the space with the sound of unknown songs. Most things sounded very wrong to him, but he endured it, thinking that every bit of knowledge could be helpful.

When they were done, they tidied up the kitchen together. After, he took a walk around the cabin, checking if everything was alright, he would probably hear if someone came up, but being careful would keep them safe, and the routine check helped settle down the Soldier.

Saoirse was sitting cross-legged in one of the armchairs in the living room, her sketchbook resting in her lap. The armchair was an old thing, the fabric a faded dark blue, it didn't look like the most comfortable resting place, but she loved to draw while sitting there. He sat down in the other one, after getting his notebooks from his room. He liked to read them every night before bed, as a way of cementing the memories. He didn't know if it really helped, but the repetitive action gave him comfort, even if the memories were usually the stuff of nightmares.

When she looked up, James had fallen asleep, the red notebook still in his hands. She took a blanket from the couch, draping it over him, even if she knew that he wouldn't feel cold, so he would be comfortable. When she had covered James as best as she could without disturbing his sleep, she went back to her armchair, taking a moment to study him in his peaceful state. She didn't have the opportunity often, he was always alert, a frown creasing his brows constantly. Saoirse knew that he had a lot on his mind, their safety, her health, their living arrangements... it was a heavy burden to carry alone, and if his own state of mind was added to the equation... it would get too heavy for him. But James was stubborn, he thought he could shoulder all their troubles, and he would try to do that until it killed him, she was sure of that, even if she didn't remember their lives together.

She was so glad he had found her. It couldn't be put into words how glad she was, but James was almost like her guardian angel, always looking after her. She was thankful, of course, no one, not even they, with their broken minds, would like to be under Hydra's thumb. Being used as a puppet for evil purposes wasn't exactly anyone's cup of tea. She wished she could help him, but she didn't really know how, she was focused on getting better so she could be an asset to him. Although the idea of James allowing her to help him seemed like wishful thinking most days.

Saoirse flipped through her sketchbook, most drawings featured James in the different places they'd visited. She tried to draw things from her memories, but it only served to frustrate her, since she couldn't get all the details. Lately, she'd been drawing another person, a woman with dark curls and red lips, a fiery glint in her eyes. She was sure that the woman was someone from her past, someone important, but she wasn't able to place her. Trying to remember only gave her a fierce headache, so she chose to leave it alone.

After drawing James for a while, she decided to go to sleep. Her room was in the back of the cabin, the bigger of the two bedrooms. The walls were a light blue that contrasted beautifully with the dark wooden floors. The color reminded her of another room, one from many years ago, filled with laughter. She'd tried to draw that room, but her memories of it weren't good enough. Most of the space in the room was occupied by a large bed, its firm mattress made sleeping easier, unlike the motel beds, which were too creaky and soft. She'd piled lots of blankets on the bed, loving the feel of their weight resting on her while she slept. There was only one way to make sleeping even better, and that was sleeping beside James, but she didn't want to overstep. She felt safe sleeping by his side, but knowing that he worried about waking up and not recognizing her, she kept trying to sleep by herself. It was good most days.

Her dreams, nightmares, really, were few and far between. James had told her that sleeping was a great time for her brain to recover, so she should expect dreams or memories to appear during sleep, it was that way for him. Most of her memories came back when she did certain actions, like drawing or reading. She was pretty sure that The Lord of the Rings had been her favorite book before. Remembering things like that gave her hope, she would remember good things, someday. There had to be more than bad memories buried deep inside her mind.

* * *

_The Morrigan walked through the snow, the heavy weight of the corpse she was carrying slowing her movements. That man had to weight at least three hundred pounds, and he hadn't gotten lighter after dying. He'd tried to escape, nothing she hadn't expected, but the Morrigan couldn't allow her mission to fail. That man hadn't been important, not even useful, but she couldn't leave anything behind. _

_She'd wanted the Soldier to be with her, missions were faster with his help. They worked well together. He could keep up with her, no one else could. And he always made the deaths clean. She'd made a mess with the knives and her clothes were drenched in blood, she hated that feeling. _

_She dragged the corpse to the cave where she was keeping the others. Only one of those people was part of the mission, an old scientist who'd escaped from Hydra years ago, taking something with him. She didn't care about that, but her handler did, and he wanted to make the scientist suffer. _

_She was supposed to take the old man to a cave and wait for extraction, and she had. Kind of. She hadn't known that there would be so many people with him. Another man, a frail looking old woman and a little kid who couldn't be more than six or seven. They weren't her targets, but they'd been the only way to get to her actual target. Hydra could deal with them. The man she'd killed had been some kind of bodyguard, a bad one, but he'd tried. He'd put up a good fight, but it had been useless. She'd broken both of his arms without even breaking a sweat. She'd thought that it would deter him from trying anything else, like escaping, but she'd been wrong. _

_They'd distracted her, the kid had been crying non-stop for at least an hour, and it made her head pound. The bodyguard had used the opportunity to run from the cave, he shouldn't have. The Morrigan had followed him at a leisurely pace, knowing that he wouldn't escape her. Once she'd gotten to him, she'd gutted him like a pig, her knife dragging slowly from his belly to his chest. She knew that it had been unnecessary, a shot to the head would have gotten the job done faster, but she couldn't control her urges. _

_She dropped the corpse at the entrance, going further in without it. She didn't want the kid to keep crying, and having her stare at that thing wouldn't be a conductive way to her stoping. The scientist was holding the little kid in his arms, the old woman resting against his shoulder. _

_"What did you do with him?" His voice trembled, but he looked straight at her eyes. _

_"I told you to keep quiet."_

_"Why are you doing this? He kept on. _

_"It's my mission. Stop talking."_

_"I will give them back the notebook, but please, let them go. They don't have anything to do with this." _

_So that's what her handler wanted, a notebook. _

_"It's not my decision. Now shut up."_

_"God, they destroyed you. I shouldn't have helped them do this to you. But I can help you. If you let us go, I'll help you get better. I will take you back to your family, I promise., they're still looking for you. Please help us, this is not you."_

_The man kept begging, nagging her. She wished she could put a bullet between his eyes, make him shut up, but she mustn't. She couldn't mess up the mission. _

_"I have no family. Shut your trap if you want that kid to live to see another day."_

_That finally made him shut up. _

_A small noise alerted her. Someone was coming in. Her handler walked into the dimly lit room a second later. _

_"Mission report." He said in Russian. _

_"That's the one you wanted."_

_"What about the other two? The one dead outside?"He had his hands clasped behind his back, his posture stiff. _

_"His family. His bodyguard. I couldn't take him without taking them." She paused for a second. "He says my family is looking for me." _

_Her handler almost missed the words. But he heard her. They would need to wipe her again, nothing could come between their asset and them. _

_"Take care of the kid and the woman, then go back to the base. He's coming with me."_

_The Morrigan turned around, shooting the woman and the kid in the head without a second thought. The scientist's screams of pain echoed in her head for hours. _

* * *

James woke up to the sound of pouring rain. He was rubbing the sleep from his eyes when Saoirse screamed. He jumped from the armchair, trying to untangle himself from the blanket that had covered him while he ran towards the sound. Saoirse was screaming like a banshee. When he entered the room, she was sitting in a corner, holding her knees against her chest. He walked over to her, slowly.

"Are you alright?" _She isn't, obviously._

She moved her head from side to side. She didn't know how she was feeling, but she knew it wasn't alright. It wasn't good. She hated herself. How could she have done those horrible things?

"Talk to me, Saoirse, don't shut me out, please." He couldn't go back to her being silent. Not when he knew that she used the silence to hide her pain.

He sat down beside her. He'd woken up like that countless times, his memories so disturbing that they made sleeping impossible. He didn't like to see her like that. She hadn't had many problems with sleeping before, certainly less than he'd expected. What had changed?

"I don't want to remember. It hurts. My head hurts. The memories hurt." She was crying, sobs racking her whole body. "I was a monster."

"Come here." He wrapped his arms around Saoirse, holding her tight. He hated seeing her in pain. "You're not a monster."

"I am. I killed that little kid and I didn't care. I was heartless. And the man, he knew me, he could have helped me, but I didn't want his help. He was just a mission."

James didn't know what he could say to comfort her. He would've liked to tell her that it would get better, that not all memories were so bad… but he wouldn't lie to her, so he remained there, sitting on the floor and holding her in his arms while she cried. He used the time to think, trying to plan around that new discovery. She'd remembered some things, but not missions, at least not like that. He'd been right to be afraid of training with her, it had brought back bad memories.

James decided right there and then that he would go alone to Salt Lake City, the next Hydra base on his list. If he found a quinjet they wouldn't have to go to the bigger base, the one in Missoula. Training had hurt her mentally, he didn't want that for her. He couldn't expose her to any more horrors. If she wasn't completely fine, she could become a liability during a mission, putting herself in danger. Maybe more training would help her, she'd already shown great capabilities, but he couldn't, in good conscience, train with her when he knew that it would bring back the horrors they'd committed. He knew she would still remember, someday, but he would keep her safe, mentally and physically, as long as he could.

The next day he'd plan his new mission and, as soon as he thought that she was good enough to be left alone in the cabin, he would leave. If everything went right, they'd be out of the States in a matter of days. If something went wrong… he preferred not to think about that possibility.

* * *

A/N: Hi! I'm so so sorry I took so long to update... life gets in the way sometimes. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. And thank you for all the visits, favorites and follows! They mean the world to me.

Have you watched Endgame? It killed me, I'm still in shock.


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